


In the Restaurant on Boxer Boulevard

by GalaxyGhosty



Series: It Started With the Rain [4]
Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 06:38:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3718846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGhosty/pseuds/GalaxyGhosty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Date two is a pretty successful venture.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Restaurant on Boxer Boulevard

**Author's Note:**

> According to this neat little trivia book in my bathroom, on average, daters have their first kiss on the second date.
> 
> I'll leave you with that info.

Mark waited two days to call him. 

It wasn't as though Jack was _waiting_ for him to call, except that he totally, totally was. Jack could hardly focus on anything at all, and he ashamedly checked his phone a little more often than he should've. 

But lo and behold, two days passed and his phone buzzed adamantly on the desk beside him as he was answering an email to a client. He grabbed it, saw Mark's name, and hoping he didn't seem too eager, pressed 'answer'. 

“Hello?” he said, trying to sound cool and casual. 

_“Hey, Jack,”_ Mark's voice came clear through the speaker. _“How are you?”_

A million different feelings rushed into Jack at the three little words. He felt pretty damn good, all things considered. Almost like a thousand butterflies erupted into joy inside of his stomach. Which was a weird, but also pleasant feeling. 

Instead of saying that, Jack said, “Pretty good. How're you?”

_“Great,”_ Mark replied. _“Listen, I just wanted to ask. Are you busy Friday night?”_

No, Jack was most certainly not busy Friday night. But he had to at least _pretend_ he was checking. He didn't want Mark to know that he was a boring, no-plans-for-Friday-night kind of loser and wanted him to think that he more of a cool-has-to-check-the-calendar-to-squeeze-you-in kind of loser. 

“Ahm...” he began. “Lemme check just real fast...” 

Mark hummed in acknowledgment and was silent for a moment, and Jack did actually look at his calendar. He knew nothing would be on it, but there was a slim possibility he'd forgotten he wrote something down. When he saw nothing for Friday's date, he answered, “I'm free. Why d'ya ask?” 

_“Do you want to have dinner?”_ Jack could hear the smile in Mark's voice. _“You can pick the place, if you want. Since I took us to the coffee shop last time.”_

“I think I trust your judgment,” Jack replied. “That was some fine ass coffee.” 

Mark laughed, and Jack's heart spiked. If that wasn't one of the most attractive sounds he'd ever heard, he didn't know what was. For once, Jack was glad they weren't together in person. He was smiling too much. 

_“Fair enough,”_ Mark said. _“Let's be cliché. There's a nice Italian restaurant on Boxer Boulevard, you know the place?”_

Jack tried to imagine the place, but he knew very little of the area he actually lived in, as far as date places went. He knew basically where the grocery store was, where the bus stop was, where the bus stops took him, and where he could actually buy decent clothes for if he ever had to meet clients in person (which was almost never). He also knew where various takeout places were, so in case he didn't feel like making food for himself (most often), he could order something. But as far as actual restaurants went, no, he didn't know the locations. 

“I can't say I do.” 

_“No trouble,”_ Mark said. _“I can pick you up, if you want? Or would you rather me give you the address and we'll just meet up?”_

The thought of Mark coming to his apartment and getting him absolutely terrified Jack. Not because he didn't want Mark to know where he lived, but mostly because his apartment was a terrible mess and like _hell_ he was going to show that to a potential partner. 

“We'll meet up,” he said. “What's the address of the place?”

Mark paused for a moment, probably to look it up, and in the meantime Jack got a pen and a sticky note, ready to write it down. After a moment, Mark rattled off a list of numbers and letters, and Jack hurriedly wrote them down. 

_“Does eight sound good?”_ Mark asked. _“As far as a time goes?”_

“Perfect,” Jack said. “I'll...see ya then?” 

_“See you then,”_ the smile in the voice was back. _“Later, Jack.”_

Jack hung up, and let out a sigh he didn't know he'd been holding. He ran his fingers through his hair, and couldn't help but grin, as Friday was only three days away. 

Three days, however, took forever to pass. Jack swore that Father Time was being the biggest dick to ever dick, considering it was just taking _too damn long_ for an hour to pass, let alone a day. The anticipation was practically killing him, but luckily, before that could happen, three days were over. 

He was ten minutes early to the place on the day in question, pacing awkwardly in front of the restaurant. He had tried to dress smart but casual, but likely resulted in looking something akin to a train wreck. He wished he'd called his sister to get _her_ advice on how to dress, but then she would ask for every detail about Mark that he knew of, and it was then that Jack remembered _that's_ why he didn't call her. 

But Mark, absolutely perfect Mark, was right on time, dressed perfectly with a perfect smile and perfect floofy hair. He was wearing blue today, blue flannel as a matter of fact, dark jeans and dark sneakers. 

Had he mentioned Mark looked really incredible in flannel? Because he really, really did. 

“You look great,” Mark complimented, breaking Jack from his thoughts. 

He probably didn't mean it. Again, Jack was pretty sure he looked like a train wreck. Mark was just being nice. But even so, he said, “Thanks. You look pretty fine yourself.” 

Mark winked. “I try.”

Nope. Jack totally didn't blush at that. He cleared his throat, as Mark opened the door, making a grand gesture for Jack to go inside. “After you, my good man.”

Jack snickered, feeling like Mark was most definitely going out of his way to be embarrassing, as he walked inside.

Mark had apparently called in a reservation ahead of time, so before long, they were seated and the bout of nerves that usually hit when Jack was with Mark settled in. Jack's hands went to his knees again, and he watched Mark glance over the menu. 

“Are you a wine sort of guy?” Mark asked, looking up at him.

Jack tried to grin. “Trying to get me drunk already?” 

He meant it to be lighthearted, and Mark just laughed it off, but had the courtesy of giving him a devilish grin. “I don't need wine to woo you off your feet, trust me.” 

Jack flushed at the implication. 

But after that, it felt like the date moved on fast forward. They ordered dinner, ate, talked, and then Mark actually _did_ order wine. They drank and talked more, and more, and Jack forgot all about his nerves (or perhaps it was the wine). 

On the whole, dinner was pretty swell. As far as dates went, this had to be in Jack's top ten, if not his very best. He laughed a lot and the food was _excellent_. Jack made a mental note to remember the place in case he wanted to come back again. 

It was well into eleven when they left, but not before having the check-dance. After a bout of bickering, Jack finally relented in letting Mark pay for it. 

"I invited you out," Mark said. "I should be the one who pays." 

The minute they stepped outside, the chilly fall air hit Jack pretty hard. He hadn't realized how hot it was in the restaurant, or how hot he was himself. He unbuttoned the top button on the collar of his shirt and Mark let out a soft sigh.

“That was nice,” he grinned. “You're definitely something else, Jack.”

“I'll try and take that as a compliment,” Jack replied. 

“It was intended as such,” Mark said. 

Jack inclined his head towards the sky, then glanced down at his watch. It had been a while since he was out this late on a Friday night—the last time was probably before he finished university. He glanced back to Mark, who was gazing at him with a tiny smile. Jack met his gaze briefly and smiled back, before Mark broke it. 

“Do you want me to walk you home?” he asked. “I can, if you want.”

Jack normally would have _never_ agreed to that. He wouldn't even let Mark pick him up, earlier. But he wasn't quite ready to leave him, yet. The feeling inside of Jack was _thriving_ on this kind of interaction; this casual conversation and flirting.

Because yes, Mark was definitely flirting. And Jack was _loving_ it. 

“It's a bit out of the way,” Jack said, despite himself. “I don't want to keep ya...”

Mark waved it off. “Don't worry about it.” 

Which is how Jack found himself walking the streets of the town with Mark, listening to him talk about a crazy game he'd played a few years ago that still stuck with him. The area was mostly silent, most of the shops having closed at around nine. Normally, the silence would have been eerie to him, but with Mark's voice filling the emptiness, it felt pretty comfortable. 

Jack was sure Mark's voice could make _anything_ feel comfortable. 

Soon, they rounded the corner to Jack's apartment complex, and Jack made a point of walking ahead of Mark, if only to get to the door before he did. When he found his door at the end of the hall, he stopped in front of it. He slipped his hands into his pockets. 

“This is my stop,” he said. “Thanks fer, y'know, walking with me.”

“Hey,” Mark said. “Don't mention it. It's not a problem.”

Jack rocked on his heels. “I suppose I should say g'night.” 

Mark chuckled. “I think that would be appropriate.” 

But before Jack could say anything, Mark gave him a peculiar look, as if he was contemplating something. Jack asked, “What?”

“I don't...normally do this,” Mark began. He seemed to be turning a soft shade of pink, rubbing the back of his neck. “But...would it be alright if I kissed you?”

The air felt like it just high tailed it out of Jack's lungs. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut hard, that's how difficult it was to breathe. He knew that his face was probably on _fire_ , but he stuttered out, “Y-yeah. Okay.”

Jack closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath as he waited. When nothing initially came, he opened his eyes again, and only _then_ did Mark reach up, cup his cheek, and kiss him gently. 

It was a small little kiss, only lasting a few seconds, but fireworks practically exploded inside of Jack at the contact. Mark pulled away after a beat and it took all of Jack's self control not to grab Mark by his collar and kiss him again. He shivered inwardly.

Mark sighed, a lazy sort of smile on his lips. “Goodnight, Jack.” 

Jack swallowed. “G'night, Mark.”

With shaking fingers, Jack pulled out the keys to his apartment, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. As he turned to close the door, he saw Mark leaving, and after shutting it, Jack leaned back against the door, burying his face in his hand. But he was smiling. 

Life was good.

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda hate this piece, but alas, I must accept that I have edited it to the best of my ability. Maybe my writing groove is off today. I feel like I had to do a lot of awkward time skipping but eh, whatever. I'll go back and fix it later, probably, when I'm feeling it. 
> 
> Another fun fact; Story written to "Lonely Boy" by The Black Keys. I'll be listening to this song for a while. 
> 
> Finally though. I get to write cute stuff. All I ever wanted was to write cute stuff. And now I can. Boo-ya. 
> 
> Thanks for everyone reading this so far! You all have been so freaking nice it's incredible. <3


End file.
